Strike? What strike? Someone asked me if I had taken the cue from other bloggers to boycott all the political skirmishes clouding our nation lately.
Then why the long hiatus, echoed another friend.
Read my fucking blog la dei.
As it is now I’m still to know when exactly my laptop will be ready. Not that there’s any problem with this one that I’m on now, but its just not the same. Its like when you are so used to cuddling your spouse and suddenly you are fondling a different person against your will.
So anyway, I was at the blog house last week and one of the sponsors, LG, had initiated some sort of a contest where we are required to reveal our darkest secret through our blog and link it back to them. The best kept secret spotted by the organiser will walk away with their latest hand phone product and a night’s spend with the LG Girls or something.
Or was it? It was too noisy I can barely hear what the emcee (Tony) was trying to tell us exactly.
Hey, not that I’m participating but if I did I could be winning the contest hands-down. I’ve got too many secrets by revealing the worst-kept would hand me the grand prize.
Like that night right… while shaking hands with Erra Fazira, my eyes were actually focusing on her boobs. She may notice it but as I said; its only the worst-kept.
And later on, all along the conversation I had with this one sweet lady who came up to me, I couldn’t make out who she was, right up till now!
Ok seriously I thought it’d easy but its not. By telling the whole world your secrets it may in a way, jeopardise your career, relationship and even get you into trouble with the authority.
Here’s a bold truth; I have indeed, committed a crime or ten…